


Something Uniquely Him

by hatrickane (dandelionwhiskey)



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Dubious Ethics, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Pining, Scent Kink, Scenting, Teacher-Student Relationship, They Play Hockey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 11:21:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17021730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionwhiskey/pseuds/hatrickane
Summary: Patrick might be approaching 30, unmated, but that doesn't mean he's going to let some young Alpha walk all over him. He shouldn't feel responsible for teaching this kid how to interact with Omegas, but he might be the only one who can.A scientist-takes-on-an-unethical-experiment AU.





	Something Uniquely Him

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit, y'all. This one was a toughie. 
> 
> Thank you to the organizers of the Big Fic Energy fest for making this all happen. Thank you to everyone who cheerleaded, checked in, and supported me when I struggled through the end. Thanks to everyone in the BBFE discord for sprints and inspiration!
> 
> Huge thank you to fourfreedoms for her initial beta work and making sure I stayed on the right track.
> 
> Thank you to allthebros for working her butt off helping me finish and get everything polished up and writing bits of it and coming up with a title. You worked so hard for me, and I really appreciate it! I'm going to call you the Adverb Annihilator. 
> 
> Finally, a massive thank you to alexei who made a FANTASTIC mix to go with this story. She put a ton of work into it and it's truly wonderful, check it out here: 
> 
> **[Maybe If You Let Me](https://8tracks.com/alexeii/maybe-if-you-let-me) **

“Hey, Kane.” Patrick jumped and almost dropped the towel he had tight around his waist, ready to admonish whoever had just startled him while he stood half-naked in the locker room. 

He turned to meet a pair of dark, annoyed eyes, topped with furrowed brows and framed by what could be sharp cheekbones if they didn’t have that round layer of youth around them. Patrick blinked. 

“Can I help you?” 

“You shouldn’t throw your scent around like that,” the guy hissed, eyes darting around conspiratorially. 

Patrick looked him up and down. The other guy was fully dressed and wearing a Johnny’s Ice House employee shirt. Shit, he was that Zamboni driver who went out between games. Patrick had watched him a couple of times, drawing perfect stripes up and down the small rink. Why he was here, getting in Patrick’s face while he’s trying to get changed.

“I’m-”

“It’s  _ rude _ .” 

“Are you scenting me?” Patrick asked incredulously. His hackles were rising. He was really fucking sick of Alphas sniffing around him all day just because he was approaching thirty, unmated. 

“How could I not?” The young Alpha said, tilting his head up. “It’s everywhere.”

Huh. “Do you, uh,” Patrick asked as he stuffed his dirty clothes into his bag. “How old are you?”

“Old enough to know you’re not supposed to do that.”

And, yeah, okay. Patrick rolled his eyes. “I may be an Omega, kid, but I’m no one’s bitch.” He shouldered past the Alpha toward the shower stalls at the back of the locker room. 

“You shouldn’t talk to me like that,” the Alpha said, brows knit together in confusion. Patrick turned with a raised eyebrow. 

“It’s a free country, pal,” he said. His eyes flicked down to the maple leaf pin on the guy’s work lanyard. Figures. He flicked it. “Not that you’d know anything about that, eh, Canada?”

“What the  _ fuck _ ,” Patrick heard mumbled behind him. He snorted and turned to disappear into the showers. Like he’d ever let some Alpha get a leg up on him, hell no. 

Patrick didn’t love being unmated. He dated plenty, but as soon as some dickbag Alpha tried to command him down to his knees, Patrick would kick them to the curb. They were always sweet as pie at first, insisting they weren’t into that traditional shit and much preferred an independent Omega - but Patrick would believe that when he saw it. Until then, he was happy being unmated.

At least the zamboni driver had been up front with him. Patrick lathered shampoo into his hair, wondering if that kid would rethink how he treated Omegas in the future. Probably not.

Something still stuck in his craw, though. He hadn’t been throwing his scent out there, but the Alpha had picked up on it anyway. And the look on his face was earnest surprise, not something you usually saw on hot-shot young Alphas. 

He’d been on the receiving end of enough undereducated, ill-informed Alphas to know that sexual education was shit for these kids. Hell, he’d lived it. It was drenched in old-fashioned rumors and old wives’ tales and never really about the Omega anatomy or biology. Or, God forbid, about asking what  _ they’d _ want. After several dates ending in Patrick getting relentlessly pounded into, some sweaty dude mouthing at his ear and asking how much he liked to submit to his big Alpha dick, Patrick tried to tell them how to make him feel good. 

It didn’t get him many second dates.

He couldn’t get that young Alpha out of his mind. He had no idea what he was talking about, but was brash enough to approach Patrick in public and demand something out of him. It was only a matter of time until he accidentally challenged some much more experienced Alpha and got the shit kicked out of him. Sure, the guy was kind of an asshole, but he was just a kid. Pat sighed to himself - it wasn’t his business, it wasn’t his problem. 

When Patrick shouldered his hockey bag and walked back into Johnny’s the next day for practice, he was met with the darkest glare he’d ever seen.

“Hey, Canada,” Patrick said, leaning on the counter and batting his eyes. “Fancy seeing you here. Do you validate parking?”

“Go away,” the Alpha - Jonny, as evidenced by his nametag - said. “I need to concentrate.” 

“My scent still too distracting for you, huh?” Patrick continued. 

“Yes,” Jonny said firmly. “Stop it.”

The smile fell from Patrick’s face. “You know, uh, that I’m not doing anything, right? You’re scenting  _ me _ .” 

Jonny’s face scrunched up into a sour look. “That’s not how it works.”

“Oh, fine, educate me on how it works, buddy.” 

“It’s - it doesn’t - you’re-” 

The guy was trying. Pity crawled up the back of his neck and he gave Jonny a mirthless smile. “Look, I know you’re at a disadvantage here, but I’ll give you some advice: until you figure this shit out, don’t confront people in public like you did to me, okay? It could get you in trouble.” 

Vulnerability flashed across Jonny’s face before it settled into something more suspicious. “Why?” 

Patrick didn’t really have time to get into it. “The public school system fails us again,” he sighs. “Don’t you have, like, a cool cousin who can explain all this shit to you?”

The look on Jonny’s face said very clearly that no, in fact, he didn’t have anyone in his life that could explain all this shit to him.

“Sorry,” Patrick said. “Don’t mean to pry.” 

“Yeah,” Jonny said sharply. His cheeks were coloring, though, and Patrick couldn’t help but get a little thrill out of making him blush. “You can go now.”

“I need to pay for parking,” Patrick pointed out, but Jonny had already moved to the back of the booth to busy himself with something else. Patrick sighed and turned away, hitching his hockey bag up. He’d just pay later. 

“Kane.”

Patrick turned back to the counter, where Jonny had set a paid parking pass. Jonny wasn’t looking at him, though, busying himself with the paperwork in the booth. Patrick grabbed the ticket, stood there for a moment in case Jonny decided to give him the time of day, and eventually took off toward the locker room.

//

“He told you to stop scenting?” Sharpy asked him, eyes round with surprise. “Like, who does that?”

“He’s just a kid,” Patrick explained. “He doesn’t know any better.”

Sharpy narrowed his eyes. “How much of a kid?”

“I don’t know.” Patrick shrugged. “Young enough that he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with himself in public.” 

“So, what’s going on here, Peeks?” 

“Nothing!” Patrick said. He pushed his chair back from his lab station and moved his goggles up to rest on top of his head. He could feel the their outline pressed into his cheeks and tried to rub it away. “I just feel bad for him.”

“It’s a problem,” Sharpy sighed. “Especially with how politics are these days. We have all these dumb kids running around, claiming when they’re teenagers, challenging adults. It’s fucking insane.”

Patrick blinked at him. “That is the oldest you’ve ever sounded. Ancient.”

“Whatever, I age like fine wine,” Sharpy said lightly. “Anyway, what are you going to do about it?”

Patrick fiddled with the strap on his goggles. “I guess nothing,” he said. “It’s not really my responsibility, is it?”

Sharpy shrugged and gestured toward the lab table. “I mean, you do kind of have a leg up on the rest of society, here.” 

Patrick made a face. “I didn’t realize getting hired here meant I’d have to give biology lessons to every newly-presented Alpha in the world.”

“Not all of them,” Sharpy said. “But maybe this one.” 

“Why are you so hung up on this one kid?”

Sharpy turned to him with a raised eyebrow and shrugged. “An Alpha you actually empathize with? Might be worth looking into, man.” 

//

Patrick considered not going to the rink the next morning, but ultimately decided he wasn’t going to let some Alpha dictate what he should and shouldn’t do. Said Alpha was there, sharpening skates in the shop on the second level, and his head shot up right when Patrick walked up the stairs.

“Relax, I’m not here to torture you,” Patrick said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I just want to skate with my team, that okay with you?”

“It’s a free country,” Jonny shot back, and Patrick couldn’t help but give a genuine laugh. 

“See, you  _ can _ be taught.”

Jonny rolled his eyes, and something tugged in Pat’s stomach. He would have just walked away, but Jonny just continued to stare at him, so Patrick took a few steps forward instead. 

“I’m sorry,” Jonny said, 

That was the last thing that Patrick was expecting to hear.  “What?”

Jonny’s eyes fixed on something above Patrick’s right shoulder as he barrelled through. “I did some reading. I wasn’t supposed to confront you like that.”

“Damn right,” Patrick said. As happy as he was that Jonny was interested enough to start learning, the thought of him poring over all the misinformation that was out there on the internet was not a pleasant one. “But be careful about what you read, some of the shit out there is made up.”

Jonny’s eyes narrowed. “Why would anyone lie about this stuff?”

Patrick shrugged and swung his hockey bag down to set it on the floor. “Lots of reasons. Mostly to keep Omegas as subservient as possible, though.” 

The look on Jonny’s face was hard for Patrick to work out. “That’s fucked up.” 

“You got that right, bud,” Patrick said. “Just - make sure your sources are credible.”

Jonny blinked. “Maybe you could teach me.”

Patrick’s lips parted in surprise. “Oh, uh.” 

“It’s just-” Jonny continued on, “you seem to know what you’re talking about.”

Patrick wanted to say no right off the bat. It wasn’t his job, this kid was not his student, and it would be totally inappropriate. But he remembered what Sharpy had said the day before. Still, though. “You hardly know me.” 

Jonny just shrugged, his shoulders hunched, eyes pleading in a way that contradicted the brash Alpha that Patrick had seen the day before.

Patrick took another step forward. “I’ll come find you after practice.” 

//

Patrick panicked for a solid weekend after giving Jonny his address. He’d agreed to a conversation, maybe a textbook or two that he could pass off, some resources to get Jonny started. Anything beyond that was something Patrick didn’t even want to entertain.

Jonny showed up at his apartment one evening, with an honest-to-God bookbag slung over his shoulder. Patrick laughed out loud and Jonny turned on his heel to stomp away, but Patrick grabbed his elbow. 

“Stop, come on, I’m sorry,” he said, dragging Jonny into his apartment. “You look like a kindergartener on his first day of school.”

“Fuck you,” Jonny grumbled. He took the backpack off and threw it onto Patrick’s couch. “I want to learn, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Patrick said, “I should have known you’d take this all crazy serious, you seem the type. Sit down, I’ll grab some soda.” 

“Water’s fine.”

Patrick almost laughed again, but he managed to hold it back. “Water it is, kid.” 

“Don’t call me that,” Jonny called out after Patrick. And, y’know, fair enough. 

“Okay,” Patrick said once they’d settled into his living room. “So, let’s just start at the beginning. How come you don’t know this stuff?” 

Jonny slumped back on the couch and crossed his arms. “Homeschooled. Old school parents, beta brother. And no, I’m  _ not _ talking to my parents about this.” 

Patrick shook his head. “Your parents should want to teach you this stuff.” 

“They’re not bad people. Just, uh. Traditional.” 

Ah. Patrick knew the type. Traditionalists usually wanted all scenting and mating to happen naturally, without society’s standards swooping in to affect the potential coupling. Patrick had run into a few in his line of work, usually protesting his research. 

“I tried with the internet, but, yeah.” Jonny scratched the back of his head. “It’s all contradictory. I don’t - I can’t figure out what’s real.” 

“Did something happen?” Patrick asked softly. Jonny narrowed his eyes and looked away, working his jaw from side to side. 

“No,” he said, firm. “I wouldn’t let anything bad happen. I just don’t know where to - how-”

“Okay, chill.” Patrick reached out and squeezed Jonny’s shoulder. “It’s confusing. And no one out there is helping.” 

“You are,” Jonny said, eyes round. Patrick quickly withdrew his hand and tucked it safely into his own lap.

“So, ask me a question,” Patrick said, hastily taking a long drink of his water. 

“I--” Jonny started, then cut himself off with frustration. “I don’t even know where to start.” 

“Well, how about the scenting thing?” Patrick asked. “Y’know, when you told me I reeked.”

“You did.”

Patrick smirked. “My scent is probably stronger because I’m unmated,” he said. “But you wouldn’t know that unless you were scenting me first.”

“I don’t think I did.”

Patrick shrugged a shoulder. “Can you smell the other Omegas?”

“Yeah,” Jonny lamented. “Of course. But you just. It’s more.” 

“Scenting is when you’re actually smelling Omega hormones,” Patrick explained. “Like, right now, you can probably smell me.” 

Jonny frowned. “A little.”

“That’s just because you’re in my house, sitting next to me. You’re not actually scenting me. That’s what you were doing in the locker room the other day.” 

“Um,” Jonny said. “It isn’t voluntary?”

“Yeah, of course it is,” Patrick said. “Here, give it a shot.” He held out his arm, wrist up, and Jonny tentatively sniffed the air. 

Jonny groaned, frustrated.. “It’s not like it was last time.”

Patrick was starting to catch on. “I, ah,” he said, “I was more naked last time. It comes more naturally when you’re turned on.”

Jonny’s eyes went wide as saucers. Patrick immediately felt guilty for bringing it up and he cringed internally. This was such a monumentally shitty idea. 

Jonny, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to sink right into the couch cushions. 

“It’s cool,” Patrick said, slapping on a grin and leaning forward. “I’m a hot piece of ass. It would be weird if you  _ didn’t _ want to get with this.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jonny said evenly. “Just - do it again.” 

Patrick shouldn’t. He knew that. And yet, he gave in, putting his arm out again for Jonny to scent.

Jonny held his gaze. Unwavering, unblinking. Patrick swallowed and turned his wrist up, which Jonny took gently in his hands and brought closer to his face. 

Jonny pressed his thumb right over Patrick’s pulse. “Like this?” 

Patrick nodded. “Yup. Go on.” 

This time, when Jonny sniffed him, Patrick felt that familiar tug in his stomach. Jonny took deep breaths through his nose, sighing softly from his mouth. Patrick shivered.

“I, um,” Patrick said, voice thick. “Is that working?”

Jonny’s eyes were half-lidded, and Patrick knew he had to put a stop to this. When he tried to pull his arm away, Jonny dropped it but surged forward to crawl closer to Patrick. He pinned him back against the couch and tucked his face into his neck. 

“You smell so good,” he slurred, scent-drunk. The air in the room went heady and warm, and Patrick worried he’d already gone too far. Jonny rubbed his nose lightly against Patrick’s throat, letting quiet breaths fan across his skin. Patrick hadn’t been scented by an Alpha in so long, and certainly not by one so gentle and eager. It took all of his strength to push Jonny off of him and scoot back to the far end of the couch.

“See,” Patrick said, “you gotta be able to control that.” 

Jonny stared at him, his chest heaving with deep breaths. Patrick tried to reel his own scent in, but the way Jonny was looking at him made him hesitate.

Eventually, Jonny regained his control mortification washed over him. He curled in on himself pathetically. 

“Hey, no, bud, it’s okay,” Patrick said. “I’m glad you dig it. But if you run into some Omega your age who throws their scent at you, you can’t just tackle them in public.”

“On a scale of one to ten,” Jonny said slowly, “how hard were you putting your scent out there?”

Patrick winced. “Um, like a three.” 

Jonny groaned and hid his face. “And I reacted like that? What am I going to do?”

“It just takes practice, man,” Patrick assured him. “Most Alphas get it in school, with synthetic scents. I, um, I have some here if you want to take some vials with you.” 

Jonny blinked at him. “Why do you have synthetic scents? Doesn’t yours work?”

If Patrick ever needed a reminder of Jonny’s youth, this was it. He smiled. “Uh, did you forget crawling all over me a second ago?”

The flush that raised up on Jonny’s cheeks was actually kind of cute. Patrick cleared his throat and stood to walk over to his cupboard. Jonny watched him silently, but intently, and something hot twisted in Patrick’s stomach. 

“I work in the lab at the Institute,” he explained as he rifled through the vials of scent stacked in the cupboard. “I make them.” 

Jonny snorted disbelievingly. “You’re not a scientist. I’ve seen you play hockey.”

“What, I can’t be both? Jeeze, you might need to learn more about the world than I thought.” 

“Shut up,” Jonny grumbled, “I just meant that you’re, well-” 

Patrick turned around, vials in hand, and Jonny had his arms crossed as he stared at the ground.

“I’m good?” Patrick supplied. Jonny nodded tightly.

“How do you find the time to train and have a full time job?”

Patrick shrugged lightly. “It’s just a hobby.”

A flurry of reactions flickered across Jonny’s face, including at least one flash of respect. He settled on general annoyance, a look that Patrick was really starting to get used to. 

“Okay, whatever, what do I do with the synthetic stuff?”

Patrick dug out an instructional booklet that they dole out to the high schools and walked Jonny through it for a few minutes. Jonny listened carefully, his eyes following the words as Patrick read them, asking all the right questions. He was a good student. 

“So, I just spray it around me enough and eventually I’ll get used to it?”

“That’s the basic idea,” Patrick said. “But you have to be careful. Your parents will probably pick up on the synthetic scent in their house, but you probably shouldn’t use it in public spaces considering, uh, your earlier reaction.” 

Jonny threw his hands up in frustration. “Well, then it’s useless! How am I supposed to use it?”

Patrick chewed on his bottom lip. There was a solution right in front of them. Patrick chewed on his bottom lip. He shouldn’t. It was unethical. But Jonny looked so miserable and desperate that he couldn’t help but at least offer. 

“You can start here,” he said. “If you want.”

Jonny looked at him skeptically. “Why would you do that for me?”

“I’m a scientist, kiddo. Call it an experiment.” 

Jonny turned the vial over in his hands a few times, deep in thought. The longer the silence stretched, the more Patrick’s panic rose. If his colleagues found out he was housing an undereducated young Alpha in his home, he’d get it bad enough. If they realized he was basically giving the kid a jerk off den, that would be a whole other story. 

“Maybe-”

“Okay,” Jonny agreed firmly. “If it’s an experiment, we need ground rules, right?”

Patrick smiled. Jonny’s enthusiasm was erasing his fears. “Uh, yeah, we can draw up some parameters.”

“Good. I work better with rules.”

“Shocker. I’ll grab my notebook.” 

Maybe Patrick would get a research paper out of this one. 

///

**THE TOEWS (“Seriously? That’s how you say it?”) ALPHA EXPERIMENT RULES**

  1. Subject will always be given complete privacy.
  2. No one - like, seriously, no one - can know about it. 
    1. I could get fired. 
  3. Subject can withdraw from the experiment at any time. 
  4. Instructor can terminate the experiment at any time.
  5. Subject will fucking listen to the instructor.
    1. I know what I’m talking about.
  6. Absolutely no contact will occur between the subject and instructor.



Jonny stared at the last item on the list. “What, I can’t even shake your hand?”

Heat rose to Patrick’s cheeks. “Um, I mean sexual contact.”

“Oh, Jesus. Fuck.” Jonny buried his face in his hands. “This is fucking humiliating.” 

“Hey.” Patrick reached out and almost put his hand on Jonny’s knee, but thought better of it and gently touched his forearm. “You’re fine. I’ve been there. It’s no fun, but you’ll get no judgements from me, dude.” 

Jonny actually managed a small smile. “I, ah. I don’t know how to repay you.” 

“I want to ride on the zamboni at Johnny’s West.” 

The laugh that Patrick got was startling. Jonny’s face softened, his eyes honest and open. It did something totally unacceptable to Patrick’s body. He swallowed hard. 

“Yeah, okay,” Jonny said. “Deal.”

//

The first time went about as well as Patrick expected it to.

He chose a spray with very low potency, something they’d developed for those who presented too young. He handed it to Jonny and ushered him off to his guest room with explicit instructions on how to use it. 

After fifteen minutes, Jonny threw the door open and stomped back out to Patrick. 

“It doesn’t work,” he complained, agitated. 

“You can’t smell it?” Patrick stood up from his laptop. That was impossible, it had gone through countless trials; Sharpy had spent over a year developing it. 

“It doesn’t smell right,” Jonny said. “It’s all sour.” 

Patrick pursed his lips. Maybe the sample had gone off. “I have another one, but it’s a little stronger.”

“Whatever, give it to me.”

Patrick rolled his eyes and went to his cabinet. “Would it kill you to say please?” 

Jonny actually looked stricken. “I, yeah. Okay, I’m sorry. That was rude.” 

A warm feeling blossomed up in his chest at Jonny’s apology. Shit, this kid just kept surprising him.  He plucked out another vial and handed it over. 

“This is one I developed a few months ago. Still pretty weak, but a lot stronger than the other one. Be careful.” 

Jonny took the vial and nodded. “Thank you.” 

“See, that’s better.” 

Once Jonny had retreated to the guest room, Patrick sat back down at his laptop and made a quick note. He wanted to talk to Sharpy about the shelf-life of the weakest vial. It should have had at least another year on it. 

As he typed, he started to get warm under his collar. A quick glance at the thermostat confirmed that it didn’t have anything to do with the temperature - the new scent he’d given Jonny must be working. Sure enough, after a couple of minutes, Jonny’s scent came wafting out of the guest room and into the rest of the apartment.

Patrick didn’t scent it. That would be trouble for both of them in way too many ways to count. Jonny did smell pleasant, though, like fresh dew. It was tempting to really inhale, to get the essence of his Alpha hormones and his natural scent, but Patrick refrained.

Biology was a bitch sometimes. 

//

On the days they didn’t do the physical experiments, Patrick and Jonny sat at his dining room table and pored over research papers and textbooks. The academic whiteboard he’d stolen from work was propped up in the corner, messy with multicolored charts and bubbles.

Jonny listened intently, even when Patrick went on tangents that were only marginally related to the original topic. At a glance, he seemed disorganized; all his notes in one notebook with messy, barely legible handwriting. But Patrick quickly learned that Jonny had a method to his chaos, and he was always able to find old notes with little trouble at all.

One Thursday, Patrick was supposed to be talking about courting when he accidentally veered into the topic of bonds. Jonny sat up straighter in his seat.

“You can bond without mating, but you can’t be mated without a bond,” Patrick said. “Traditionalists believe the two happen simultaneously, but most of us know by now that bonds can easily be formed during a heat if both sides are up for it.” 

Jonny fidgeted in his chair and tapped his pen against the table.  “What if one party isn’t up for it?” 

Patrick raised an eyebrow. Jonny continued to surprise him; he showed actual concern for Omegas in a way that Patrick hadn’t experienced from most Alphas he met.

“If someone initiates a bond and the other person turns it down, then they’ll go into Bond Rejection.”

“I’ve never heard of that,” Jonny said. He stopped tapping the pen. 

“Some people don’t believe it exists,” Patrick explained. “They think it’s just regular heartbreak, or whatever. But we’ve monitored changes in scent.”

“What happens?” 

Patrick leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “It usually happens to the Omega in heat,” he said. “The Alpha turns them down, breaks the connection. After their heat, the Omega will get depressed. We’ve seen shaking, sunken eyes, erratic behavior. All kinds of stuff.” 

Jonny stared at him. “That’s terrible.” 

Patrick nodded and cast his eyes downward. If the Alphas he dated showed even a sliver of the empathy that Jonny did... He shook his head and refocused on the lesson.

“It’s rare,” Patrick said. “It’s hard for anyone to open that connection if it isn’t mutual. That’s why some people don’t believe it exists.” 

“Do they recover?” 

Patrick’s heart thumped in his chest. He reminded himself that Alphas sounded like this until they got an Omega in bed, and then all the pretense fell away in favor of domination and control. Jonny wasn’t any different. 

Not that he was thinking about Jonny in bed.  

Patrick cleared his throat and leaned forward again. “Eventually, yeah. But they can’t attempt a bond again for a long time, at least a year. Sometimes up to five.” 

“Shit,” Jonny said. His voice was quiet, eyes round with concern. “Makes you wonder why they’d even try in the first place.” 

Patrick spread his arms with a self-deprecating grin. “As you can see, I agree with you there.”  

//

Jonny stumbled out of the guest room one afternoon, a few weeks into the experiment. He was red-cheeked and disheveled, looking incredibly guilty. Patrick resisted the urge to go to him and just turned in his chair instead. “How’d it go?”

“You know how it went,” Jonny said sulkily. “I couldn’t help myself. Again.” 

Patrick frowned. Oh, Jonny. “You shouldn’t have expected this to be quick, man,” he said. “It’s going to take time before you can totally control it. That’s why you get the guest room.” 

What Patrick didn’t tell him was that it was unusual. Most students picked up the ability to resist scents just a few days in, but Jonny was barely able to make it past the third level of strength with the synthetics Patrick made for him. He had an aversion to Sharpy’s, they’d discovered, so Patrick ensured they were all his own creations. 

He couldn’t figure out why it was taking Jonny so long. Jonny was unbelievably determined, practicing endlessly and always pushing himself just a little bit too far. It was fascinating, but Patrick could feel the frustration pouring off of him. 

Jonny met Patrick’s eyes fiercely. “Someday, I’ll be able to do it. I’ll be able to sit next to you while you’re in heat and not feel a thing.” 

Patrick’s lips parted in surprise. That was a bold claim, but Patrick actually believed that Jonny meant to do exactly that. “I, uh,” he said, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be around each other while I’m in heat.”

Jonny’s eyes darkened. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.” 

“No, no,” Patrick said quickly, “the rules. No contact.”

“But I wouldn’t,” Jonny said desperately. “I’ll be able to control it, I swear. I want that to be my test.” 

Patrick shook his head. “It’s not just you I don’t trust,” he said, leaning back in his chair with his eyebrows raised. “Heat is super powerful.” 

“Oh.” Jonny was still staring at him with the same darkened expression. “So, you-”

“Uh-uh, don’t even go there, buddy,” Patrick said, holding up one finger. “You’re too young to latch onto a washed-up Omega like me. Plenty of folks your own age you can go out and impress.” 

Jonny looked frustrated, which, Patrick had to admit, was flattering. “I’m not a kid.” 

“Yeah, whatever. We’ll talk when you can handle all of these scents without immediately popping a boner.” 

Jonny sputtered. “You’re an asshole.”

“Sure am. You hungry? I’m making pasta.” Jonny made a face. “And salad, or whatever. God, you’re picky.”

Patrick found out over dinner that Jonny had never left the state, that his parents only let him watch PG-13 rated movies, and that one time he stayed late at Johnny’s to work on his skating and before he realized it, it was four in the morning. 

“My parents almost made me quit,” he said, voice wavering. “But I talked them out of it.”

“You like your job?” Patrick asked around a mouthful of spaghetti. 

“Duh,” Jonny said. “I get to skate for free, and listen in on all of the lessons the coaches give.”

Patrick raised his eyebrows. “Do you ever get to play?”

“I was on a team for a couple of months when I was a kid,” Jonny said, “but not, uh. Not recently.”

Made sense. Between Jonny’s home life and now the scenting problem he’d been having with Omegas, playing hockey in close quarters with a bunch of guys at all hours probably wasn’t something he was allowed to do. 

“Well, you can skate with us sometime,” Patrick offered. “We just do rat hockey, but some of us are pretty good.”

Jonny brightened. His eyes actually crinkled at the sides and his scent took a sharp upward spike. Patrick had never seen him look so cheerful. “Yeah?”

“Sure thing. You probably practice every waking second. I’m sure they won’t mind.”

//

“What the fuck, Kaner,” Duncs said when Jonny threw his stuff down in the locker room and started to suit up. Patrick shoved him. 

“Give the kid a chance, man,” he said. “He needs this.” 

Sharpy, however, gave him a knowing look as they stretched out. “Getting closer with the zamboni guy?” He asked quietly. Patrick rolled his eyes. 

“I just took your advice, dummy,” he said. “I’m helping him out. Not like that!” 

Sharpy was already laughing, though, and Patrick grimaced. Jonny was looking over their way, frowning. 

“Don’t worry about him, he’s an idiot,” Patrick called out to him. But Jonny still looked uncomfortable, glancing around at the men around him. 

“For real,” Seabs said, jostling Jonny’s shoulder. “Sharpy’s a dick. Let’s go play some hockey.” 

Jonny was solid on the ice. His skating was there, confident and fast, but he was hopeless when it came to skating with other people. Patrick had to shout the plays at him as they did them, which definitely put them at a disadvantage. 

That didn’t last long.

Jonny picked up on the strategies fast and figured out where he needed to be to assist on goals. He even got one in himself. He and Seabs actually worked pretty well together.

The game was tied up toward the end, just a few seconds left, when Patrick shot forward and got his breakaway. That feeling was unmatched, skating out there alone, ahead of everyone else. Watching the goalie’s movements and adjusting his accordingly. Patiently skating right up to the edge and tapping the puck in, like it was barely a challenge, right as the buzzer sounded. 

His team went nuts as he skated back toward them for fist bumps and head pats. As soon as he caught Jonny’s eye, though, he gasped.

Jonny was breathing heavily, eyes wide and pupils dilated, his mouth open as he drew in Patrick’s scent. 

Shit. 

Patrick skated up to him under the guise of giving him a celebratory hug. “Keep it together, Toews.” 

Jonny clung to him. 

“Well done, boys!” Sharpy shouted from the bench. “Now, beer!” 

Jonny’s eyes never left him as they stripped in the locker room. Reluctantly, Patrick looped an arm around his shoulders and started to drag him toward the equipment room. “Need to have a few words with our young champion today, see you up at the bar, boys.” 

No one was really paying attention, though, so they managed to slip away fairly easily. Once alone in the equipment room, Jonny plastered himself against Patrick’s front and took a deep breath. 

“Jesus, Jonny, calm down,” Patrick said, shoving at him. 

“That was amazing,” Jonny mumbled into Patrick’s neck. “Watching you skate up close like that. Watching you score.” 

He started rubbing against Patrick, trying to press closer to him as he pinned him against the door. His hard on was thick and insistent against Patrick’s thigh. He swallowed down a whimper. 

“Jonny,” Patrick said slowly, “get a hold of yourself.”

Jonny groaned in protest. He nosed along the cord of Patrick’s throat. “Just let me taste it.”

Patrick’s eyes fluttered shut. It had been so long, and Jonny’s touch was insistent but gentle, reverent. He could let him do this. He could. 

He couldn’t.

Just as Jonny’s lips touched his neck, Patrick mustered all the strength he had and shoved him back. “Stop it,” he said, using the voice so many Alphas had tried to use on him before. 

Jonny’s glassy eyes slowly came back into focus. He blinked a couple of times, until, slowly, a horror replaced arousal. “Fuck,” he said through gritted teeth, blocking his erection from Patrick’s eyes with one hand.

“It’s okay,” Patrick said, breathless, but trying to smile. “Dude. Seriously.”

But Jonny looked absolutely humiliated. Patrick really wanted to reach out, to pull him into his arms and comfort him, but he took a deep breath and stepped back. He held his hands behind his back as he tried to think of what to say. 

“No more hockey,” Jonny said. “Not until I can figure this out.”

It was Patrick’s turn to blink in surprise. “You mean no more playing with us, right?”

“No.” Jonny shook his head. “At all. I can’t afford other incident.” 

“Do you, uh,” Patrick started. “Do you still want my help?”

Jonny waited a long moment. Patrick held his breath, heart pounding. But then, Jonny nodded once, and shoved past Patrick to get out the door. “See you tomorrow.” 

Patrick stayed in the equipment room a little longer to give Jonny enough time to pack up and leave. He fell back against the wall, pressing his palm on his own erection, unsure if he wanted to jerk off or wait for it to go away. 

Eventually, guilt won out. His cock softened and he skipped out on beer with the team to go home. 

//

“You and the kid leave together last night?” Sharpy asked, faux-innocently, over their microscopes the next day. He had bags under his eyes. 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no,” Patrick said. “Looks like you sure tied one on.” 

“It was a night of victory, Peeks,” he said. “Well, go on. What happened?”

Patrick had no idea how he was supposed to explain it without sounding like a complete pervert or painting Jonny out to be a bossy, douchebag Alpha. “He lost control, needed me to calm him down.” 

“It was that goal of yours, right?” Sharpy said. “He got all googly-eyed after it, and your scent does always spike when you score.”

Patrick flushed. “Sharpy!”

“It’s a professional observation, Peeks.” 

“You’re a freak.” He sighed and shoved his beaker away from him. “I don’t know if I’m the right person to help him out, Sharpy. He clearly has a thing for me, and I probably shouldn’t be spending time with him. It can’t be healthy.”

“Yeah,” Sharpy said, drawing the word out. “He’s got a thing.” 

“Shut up,” Patrick muttered. He dragged his beaker back toward him. “My point is, it’s inappropriate.”

Sharpy rolled his eyes. “You didn’t exactly get to where you are today by playing by the rules, dude. It’s kind of your speciality.”

Patrick jutted his lip out and poked at the tray of synthetic scent samples. “That was a long time ago.” 

“Whatever. Keep beating yourself up, then. We both know you’re not going to stop seeing him.” 

Patrick hated when Sharpy was right.  

//

Just as Patrick thought Jonny wasn’t going to show, a tentative knock echoed through his apartment. He opened the door to Jonny standing there there with his backpack, biting down on his bottom lip. 

“Can I come in?” Jonny asked, as if Patrick wasn’t already moving out of the way to let him pass. Patrick wasn’t expecting the hesitation. 

“Of course,” he said. Jonny walked in and actually hung up his backpack instead of tossing it on the couch. He toed off his shoes on the welcome mat and he wouldn’t meet Patrick’s eyes. It was unsettling, this Alpha being so careful and shy of Patrick’s space. 

“I’m sorry I ruined hockey,” Jonny said once Patrick locked the door behind him. “I know I need to be better.”

“Look, Jonny, shit happens,” Patrick said. “No one expects you to be perfect.” 

Jonny shook his head. “I do. I have to prove that I can do this.” 

Patrick rolled his eyes and reached out to grab both of Jonny’s shoulders. “You have  _ got _ to let yourself off the hook here, man. You have plenty of time to figure this stuff out.” 

Jonny didn’t shrug Patrick’s hands off of his shoulders. He didn’t shove him away or try to throw his Alpha scent at him. He actually relaxed under the grip, leaning into Patrick just a little bit. A muscle jumped in his clenched jaw and Patrick wished he could press his thumb into it. 

“You are way too wound up to do the scents,” Patrick said, dropping his hands from Jonny’s shoulders. “Let’s get you calmed down, then we can get started.”

They settled on watching television. Patrick let Jonny flip through the channels until he got tired of the indecisiveness and he whacked Jonny on the shoulder. 

“Ow,” Jonny said, and kicked Patrick back. 

He finally settled on reruns of the Sopranos on HBO. Patrick gave him a detailed backstory on what was going on, which took nearly the entire episode to do. Jonny listened, laughed, and even reacted to the surprising moments on the screen as if he was as invested as Patrick. 

“I know that actress,” Jonny said during one episode. “Why?”

“Uh,” Patrick said, “how the fuck am I supposed to know? Pull up her IMDB.” 

“Oh, she was on Entourage.”

“You watch that show? It’s terrible.”

“It’s fun, whatever,” Jonny said. “Like you have the best taste.” 

“I have impeccable taste,” Patrick said, gesturing to his whole apartment. 

“You have a giant picture of yourself in your hallway.”

“From when our team won the beer league, dipshit,” Patrick said. “It was a good moment.”

“But the picture isn’t of the whole team. Just you.”

“Yeah, well, I was MVP.” Patrick grinned and stuck his tongue out between his teeth. 

They talked about hockey for awhile, Patrick recounting his favorite plays and Jonny confessing that he grew up loving the Jets. This evolved into conversations about Canada, the lake that Jonny would go to as a kid, childhood friends. 

Jonny’s eyes were far-away and his smile wistful. Patrick wanted to reach out and touch him, remind him that he was too young to be so nostalgic. He hoped that one day, Jonny would look back on his time with Patrick with the same small smile, the same reverence. 

When they got peckish, Patrick whipped up dinner, and they ate chicken and potatoes in front of the television. Jonny didn’t even complain that the only green thing on the plate was a side of frozen peas Patrick had found in the back of his freezer. 

Patrick found that he loved bickering with Jonny when he wasn't constantly met by glares and frowns and his typical frustration. He was actually a really kind of a dork once he let himself forget all his issues, let himself relax. And Patrick wanted to make him laugh as much as possible. 

Their plates long forgotten, Patrick was in the middle of a story about his sisters at Disney World when Jonny suddenly stood up. 

“Shit, it’s like 11,” he said. “I gotta go, I have an early shift tomorrow.” 

“Oh, fuck.” Patrick sat up from the couch and checked his watch. “Come on, get your stuff.” 

Jonny smiled at him at the door and knocked their shoulders together. “Thanks. I’ll see you next time, Patrick.”

After he’d shut the door, Patrick turned and saw that the  _ Are You Still Watching? _ prompt was up on the television. They had completely forgotten to do the lesson. 

Patrick swiped a hand down his face. 

//

Jonny showed up looking sheepish and reluctant for his next lesson. 

“Out with it,” Patrick said.

“The synthetic scents aren’t working,” Jonny said. “No matter how well I can control them, the real thing just makes me lose it. I have to use real scent.”

“That’s not a good idea.” 

“It’s the only way it’ll work for me. I swear, I must be broken.” 

Patrick’s stomach clenched and he actually indulged and took a step closer to Jonny to squeeze his upper arms. “You’re not broken.”

“You said it yourself,” Jonny spat, shoving an empty vial into Patrick’s chest. “These scents are made for kids in schools and I can’t even handle them on my own. I don’t want to be like this.”

His voice was wracked with desperation. Patrick directed him into the living room, sat him on the couch, and got him a glass of water. 

“First of all,” he said, “you’re definitely not broken. I don’t want to hear that shit from you again.” 

Jonny nodded glumly. 

Patrick took a deep breath. His gut churned with nerves. “Secondly, we can  _ try  _ it.” 

Jonny perked up. “Yeah?”

“As monumentally shitty of an idea it is, you’re right. If the synthetics aren’t working, we should try with the real thing.” 

Patrick rubbed at one eye and fought his nerves down. “We’ll be breaking one of the rules, though.” 

“Which one?” Jonny asked curiously, leaning forward to look at Patrick’s notebook. 

“No contact.” At Jonny’s furrowed brow, Patrick continued. “There’s just no way we’ll be able to follow it if we’re scenting each other.” 

Jonny shivered. 

“So, we’ll need a new rule,” Patrick said, attempting to sound confident. “Any contact remains within the confines of the lessons, and never outside of them. That, I think, we can manage.” 

Jonny watched him, measured. “When you say contact,” he started, but Patrick held up a hand. 

“I mean whatever might happen as a result of you trying to learn. I’ll do my best to make sure it never goes too far, but scenting is unpredictable. If we’re going to do that, you have to be okay with that.” 

He didn’t know if this would work. He had no idea if this step would even help Jonny.  But it was clear that the experiment wasn't working, and they both knew that if Jonny didn't learn to control himself, he'd have to isolate himself, retreat back to his family house.

Jonny set his jaw. “I think you already know my answer to that.”

Patrick grinned and tapped his socked toe against Jonny’s thigh. “Yeah, I just want to hear you say it.” 

“You’re an asshole,” Jonny said. “Yes, I’m okay with that.” Patrick’s face went warm. 

“It won’t be the goal,” Patrick assured him. “It just might, uh, accidentally happen.” 

Jonny nodded once. “I understand. I… thank you, Patrick. I just want to control it.” 

“We’ll get you there,” Patrick said. “I promise.” 

Jonny fidgeted for a moment before scooting minutely forward. “Should we start?”

Patrick smiled. Eager as ever. “Yeah, okay. I’ll put my scent at about a three, and you have to pull yourself back, all right? When it doesn’t affect you at all, we’ll move up to four.” 

Jonny actually took to the three much more quickly than Patrick had expected. His fingers twitched toward him, and a bead of sweat blossomed at his temple, but as he scented the air, Jonny managed to stay firmly in his seat on the couch. 

Patrick was impressed. And maybe a little disappointed.

“Jonny, that’s awesome,” he said. He could feel the pull of Jonny scenting him, the deep, heady rush of wanting to bare his neck and let an Alpha drink his fill.

Jonny grinned, bright and happy, pride beaming out of him. “You still smell good,” he said, eyes half-lidded. “Really good.”

Patrick swallowed hard. He raised his nose and scented Jonny back, lightly, just to throw him a small curveball. He opened up that cyclical connection until Jonny started to shake with self-control. His eyes were cloudy. Patrick could smell his arousal thick in the air. 

He cleared his throat and pulled back, hands balled hard in his lap. Jonny’s body slumped like his strings had been cut, and his dick strained hard in his jeans. Patrick looked away. “Way to go, Jonny,” he said weakly. 

“I have to-- I gotta, uh,” Jonny said, before scrambling off the couch and disappearing into the guest room.

Patrick could relate. 

//

Working with Patrick seemed to amplify Jonny’s resolution. He slipped up a few times, crawled into Patrick’s lap and rubbed against him, but he always managed to pull away before Patrick had to intervene.

It was driving Patrick insane. 

In every lesson, Patrick would throw something in to catch Jonny off-guard, something to test his resolve. But each time, even with minor slips, he’d manage to pull back and scurry off to the guest bedroom.

Patrick resolved to keep the door closed at all times. He still could smell Jonny through it even hours after he'd gone home, drifting under the crack underneath and taking all of Patrick’s attention away from his work. Some nights, he had to spray neutralizer over it just so he could focus.   
  
One evening, Patrick found himself staring at it. He cautiously took a step closer to rest his forehead against it, as if he could absorb Jonny’s scent through the wood. He was tired, frustrated, his dick still hard from his lesson with Jonny. He hadn't touched himself in weeks.    
  
He took a deep breath, reached out for the handle and pushed the door open.

It reeked of Jonny. The scent was so powerful, Patrick’s knees wobbled and he had to sit on the bed. He unbuttoned his pants and slipped his hand inside to squeeze his cock, arousal heating his cheeks. He jerked off with slow, strong pulls of his hand, his slick soaking through the back of his pants to dampen the comforter. He came messily on his hand, face smushed into the pillows and nostrils full of Jonny’s scent. 

Patrick didn’t wash the sheets. 

The next session went as it always did: Jonny hunched on one corner of the couch, resisting Patrick’s scent with every fibre of his being. Patrick scenting him back, the reciprocal hormones mixing up with each other and ramping up the tension in the room. 

“You’re doing great, Jonny,” Patrick said. His voice was shaky, but he always noticed that Jonny lost just a little bit more control whenever Patrick praised him. “This is the best you’ve ever done.” 

“Scent me back more,” Jonny said thickly. “I can do it.” 

Patrick did. He took in as much of Jonny’s scent as he could, knowing it would go straight to Jonny’s instincts, that he’d want to crawl over to his side of the couch and pin him down. 

Jonny went rigid. His eyes were shut tightly as he took in shaky little breaths to try and regain his composure. Just when Patrick was sure Jonny was about to break, he jerkily stood up and ducked away to the guest room.

Patrick sighed and thunked his head back against the couch. For the first time since they’d begun this, he started to get wet. He gritted his teeth and tried to pull back, to calm himself down. 

But Jonny was barely gone ten seconds before he burst back out and into the living room. He, wrestled Patrick onto his back against the couch and muscling himself between his legs. Patrick let him do it, heat curling in his stomach and slick seeping out of him. 

“The room smells like sex,” he grunted into Patrick’s ear. “What did you do?”

He sounded genuinely accusatory. Patrick swallowed and stroked his hand down Jonny’s back. “It wasn’t on purpose,” he lied. 

“That was your slick, right?” Jonny asked as he pushed Patrick’s legs back. “On the sheets?”

Patrick nodded slowly and Jonny groaned. He pressed a thumb along the crease of Patrick’s ass through his jeans, rubbing slow circles. This was definitely further than Patrick should let it go, but Jonny’s scent was coming off of him in waves and Patrick just wanted to lap it up. 

“Is it happening now?” Jonny’s voice was low and gravelly. “Are you getting wet?”

“Yeah,” Patrick breathed. 

“Can I just… can I just touch it? Please?”

This guy was going to be the absolute death of Patrick. “Shouldn’t,” he said. “It’ll be too much for you.” 

Jonny was already unbuttoning Patrick’s jeans, though, always so eager and curious. Patrick felt fondness swell in his chest, and it made him want to gather Jonny into his arms and kiss him. 

“Scenting is unpredictable,” Jonny said, and it was easy for Patrick to lift his hips so Jonny could tug his pants and underwear off. Jonny tucked his fingers beneath the elastic waistband and started to pull, but hesitated. His eyes flicked up to Patrick’s uncertainly. 

Patrick had been dreading the experiment’s inevitable end, but he shut his eyes and wished that it wouldn’t be that exact moment.

“Can I?” Jonny asked. Patrick’s eyes flicked back open. Jonny was red-cheeked and breathless, pulling minutely on Patrick’s boxer briefs. It was a sight to behold. 

“At this point, most Alphas don’t ask,” Patrick said.

Jonny thumbed across Patrick’s hipbones, but didn’t respond. His eyes were trained on Patrick’s body, gazing down at his clothed dick. Patrick gave a little laugh.

“Yeah,” he breathed, “go ahead.” 

Jonny didn’t hesitate once he got permission. He pulled the underwear off and tossed them somewhere out of sight. Patrick tried to regain control of his breathing as Jonny pushed his legs apart and ran two fingers down to his hole. The rough pads of his fingers gave Patrick a full body shiver as Jonny rubbed the sensitive skin there, gathering wetness on his fingers. 

“Whoa,” Jonny said reverently. Patrick really wanted to kiss him. Instead, he wiggled his hips down against Jonny’s fingers until one of the tips slipped inside. Jonny yanked his hand away like it had been burned and Patrick immediately sat up. 

“Sorry,” Patrick said. “Fuck, sorry.” 

Jonny wasn’t paying attention, though, fixated on his wet fingers. He stuck his tongue out and slowly licked one. Patrick whimpered, unable to look away. 

“That tastes,” Jonny started, but apparently was at a loss for words.  

Patrick scooted back on the couch to put some distance between them. Jonny’s hesitation had cooled Patrick’s jets enough to let him get control over himself. “Hey, we can stop here, if you want. If you can taste that and not want to shove me down and mount me, then I’d say it was a successful lesson.” 

Jonny looked like he had no idea what to do. Sitting there, lost and turned on, he gave off such softness that Patrick pulled his pants back up and cupped his cheek. 

“Hey. Good job.” 

Jonny pulled back and grabbed his water from the table, downing it all in a couple of gulps. He sat there silently for a beat or two before looking over at Patrick. “It’s not that I didn’t want to,” Jonny said. “If I can resist it, then it’s not part of the lesson. I don’t want to break the rules.” 

Patrick couldn’t help but lean forward to press their foreheads together. It was so quintessentially Jonny. It was that exact behavior that made him so fucking charming, and made Patrick want him so badly. 

“We’ll be finished up in no time,” Patrick said. “Soon as you can stop running off to jerk off in the guest room.” 

Jonny flushed red.

“Now, look, we have to get you some neutralizing spray or you’ll go home smelling like me and your parents will freak.” Patrick shifted to stand up, and though Jonny looked like he wanted to yank Patrick back down to the couch, he didn’t. When Patrick sprayed him down, his eyes lost some of their spark.

//

“Don’t think I don’t know the smell of neutralizing spray by now,” Sharpy said, accusatory, at work the next morning. “And you wouldn’t use it unless you smelled like some Alpha you didn’t want me knowing about. Some young, strapping Alpha who should be invited back to rat hockey so he can make our second line better?”

“Shut it,” Patrick said. “It’s not what you think.” 

“Right, the lessons, I know,” Sharpy said. “But you’re telling me that you sit there in your apartment and scent each other and don’t even get each other off? That’s torture, bro.”

“It’s important to him,” Patrick said quietly. “We promised to keep it professional. I don’t want to push it.”

“Please, I can smell your desperation from here.” Patrick wanted to throw his hot coffee at him. “Just tap it, Peeksy. It’s not like he’d say no.” 

Patrick shifted uncomfortably. 

//

Weeks passed with normal lessons, with Jonny managing to stay put on the couch and have conversations without Patrick’s scent distracting him. His time in the guest bedroom lessened and lessened until he’d gone weeks without needing to use it. Soon, it was like Patrick had no effect on him at all. 

Patrick knew they were reaching the end of the experiment. He had to admit, even to himself, that he wasn’t looking forward to it. 

//

Patrick opened the door and Jonny tentatively held up two cloudy, glass tupperware containers. “I brought dinner this time,” he said. Patrick nearly swallowed his tongue. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, stepping aside so Jonny could enter. 

“You said a few weeks ago that providing food is something Alphas do.” Jonny set the containers down on the kitchen counter and turned to Patrick with a puzzled expression. 

Patrick tried to keep his hand-wringing down as Jonny helped himself to a La Croix from the fridge. Jonny was right, of course, and the minute things he was doing around Patrick’s apartment were starting to get to him. 

He’d started leaving some of this things behind. Small at first; change from his pocket, a keychain. Soon it was umbrellas, jackets. He had a space in the guest room closet, for fuck’s sake. He had started filling the fridge with La Croix, arguably the lamest drink Patrick could imagine. 

It was all stuff Jonny had picked up from their lessons about marking territory, and Patrick wasn’t stopping him. 

“Jonny,” Patrick said slowly. “That’s something Alphas do when they’re, you know. Courting.” 

Jonny blinked as his La Croix deafeningly fizzed in the silent room.

“Oh.” His voice was quiet.

“Yeah, it forms a bond.” Patrick scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “You want to save that for when you’re ready to start dating Omegas.”

“Yeah.” Jonny stared at the ground for a moment, but then brought his eyes back up to Patrick’s. “Sorry.” 

Patrick waved him off. “No worries, man. It’s good practice, I guess. Now, drink your gross soda and let’s eat whatever concoction you’ve come up with.”

“It’s not gross,” Jonny mumbled. He grabbed some dishes from the cupboard and started to dish out the superfood vegetable salad he’d made. Patrick tried his damndest not to recoil away from it. Jonny rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, I brought you lasagna.” 

Patrick hoped the relief wasn’t too evident on his face. 

“Are you back to playing hockey now?” Patrick asked a few minutes later around a mouthful of food. 

Jonny nodded. “A few weeks now. Ever since the first time I didn’t need to use the guest room.” 

Patrick’s stomach clenched. “You going to come back and play with us? Sharpy misses you.” 

“I don’t think so,” Jonny said with a wry smile. “Don’t want to push it.” 

“You’re so strict with yourself,” Patrick said. He toed at Jonny’s shin with his socked foot. “Don’t you ever let loose? Take risks?”

“You’re a risk,” Jonny said simply. The smile fell off of Patrick’s face as he stared at his pasta. 

“Yeah, I guess I am,” he agreed. 

Jonny kicked him. “I don’t know anything about you. I mean, you’re a scientist, and a hockey player.” Patrick got the distinct impression Jonny was asking a question that he wouldn’t just spit out. 

“You want to know what I was like when I was younger,” Patrick supplied. Jonny nodded. “Well, I was nothing like you, I can tell you that.”

Jonny’s eyes narrowed. 

“I was still doing this,” Patrick said gesturing toward his cabinet of scents. “Back then. When I was your age.” 

Jonny tilted his head to the side. “But you said synthetic scents have only been on the market for a couple of years.”

Patrick threw his hands up. “Hey, you’ve been paying attention in your lessons! I’ve never been so proud.” At Jonny’s glowering, Patrick conceded. “Yeah, they were. But what they were doing out there, letting these kids mate at 17 and not giving them any real chance at finding the right person, it was bullshit.” 

“My parents mated at 17,” Jonny pointed out. “They’re happy.” 

Patrick shrugged a shoulder. “I’m just saying, people should have the option, y’know? No one knows what they really want when they’re that young.” 

Jonny ducked his head and looked absolutely miserable. Patrick sighed and reached out to tap the back of his hand. 

“Hey, don’t worry, you’ll figure it out,” he reassured. “I know it seems confusing now, but-”

“It’s  _ not _ confusing,” Jonny said sharply, then instantly regret etched into his features. “Parts of it are, I guess.”

Patrick felt almost sorrowful as he looked into Jonny’s narrowed eyes. He hadn’t meant to sit across from him and judge him, but once again, he’d thrown Jonny into a bad mood. 

“Well, that’s what I’m here for,” Patrick said. “Just let me know what’s getting to you, and I’ll try to help.” 

Jonny looked at him for a long moment. Patrick tried to smile, but was met with that same, intense, unwavering stare that he’d been getting lately. 

“Tell me about nesting again,” Jonny said eventually, and Patrick nodded. 

“Yeah, sure, that stuff can get confusing,” Patrick said. He reached for his textbook and flipped open the corresponding page. Jonny leaned forward, chin on one hand, and listened as Patrick spoke.

//

Patrick woke up one Wednesday and felt that familiar prickle along the back of his neck. Shit, already? 

He hadn’t had a heat in six months with his new suppressants, but it was time he let one happen. The last time he’d waited a long time, the heat wreaked havoc on his body and he had to take several days to recover. So, he sat up, unlocked his phone, and texted Sharpy that he’d have to take a Heat day. 

Sharpy texted back several puking emojis.

He crawled out of bed and made his classic breakfast of Lucky Charms and yesterday’s coffee, grabbing the newspaper from the mat in front of his apartment before locking it and putting the scent blocking pads along the door frame.

It started to get bad around noon, an unscratchable itch tickling underneath his skin. He jerked off once, to take the edge off, and that brought him back to normal for another couple of hours. It’d been so long since he’d had a heat he’d nearly forgotten how bad it could get. 

Around three in the afternoon, he was pacing, agitated, knowing that he was right at the beginning of the end but unable to push himself over that edge. In the haze of it, he kept thinking of Jonny. He would bring his phone up to text him, then toss it away. He would touch his stomach, run his fingers through his hair, and wonder how good it would feel if it were Jonny’s hands on him. 

There was a knock at the door.

Patrick grunted. The scent blockers were supposed to let people know to stay away. He ignored it, plopping down on the couch with a cold La Croix against his cheek. 

The knocking became more insistent. Patrick tried to bury his head in a pillow.

“Patrick? Are you okay in there?”

Shit. He’d forgotten to text Jonny. 

He sat up and walked to the door. “Jonny. We can’t today, okay? It’s not a good day.”

A pause from the other side. “Are you okay?”

“I’m-” Fuck. He took a deep breath. “I’m in heat, Jonny.” 

“Let me in,” Jonny said, jingling the door handle. “I can handle it.”

“We don’t know that,” Patrick said desperately. 

“Let me prove myself. I can help you.” 

Patrick’s stomach twisted up sharply. “If I say the word, you get out. Understand?”

“Yes,” Jonny said, breathless. “I swear.” 

Patrick was an idiot. He unlocked his door and pulled it open just enough for Jonny to slip in, then shut it tightly behind him. 

“Oh, wow,” Jonny said, taking a step backward from Patrick. “Why couldn’t I smell you out there?”

“Blockers,” Patrick explained as he set them back into place. “So nosy Alphas don’t come knocking.” 

Jonny snorted and reached forward to touch Patrick’s cheek. Instantly, Patrick’s knees lost some of their resolve. “You’re really warm.”

Patrick watched Jonny warily. “That’s sort of the whole deal,” he said. Then, after a beat, “you sure you have control?”

Jonny nodded. “I got this. I’ll prove it to you.” 

Patrick wished he had the same amount of control and determination. Jonny’s scent was cooler than usual, fruity, like sorbet. Patrick’s heat was drawn to it; he wanted to drink it up, cool the fire that was quietly burning under his skin. 

“Earth to Patrick,” Jonny said, waving his hand in front of his face. “You’re staring.”

Patrick shook his head. “I should get to my room.” 

Jonny actually followed him into the bedroom and fucking sat down on the bed next to Patrick, watching him. “Do you have everything you need?”

“I didn’t prepare a meal,” Patrick said. “I’ll need one in a few hours. It gets, uh, exhausting.” 

“Leave it to me,” Jonny said. Patrick clenched his eyes shut as Jonny got up to leave the room, finding himself nosing the air to catch traces of Jonny’s scent before it disappeared. 

//

Patrick’s resolve didn’t last as long as it usually did. 

He was a mess in less than an hour, face-down and naked on his bed, rubbing his cheek into his soft sheets. He was so hot, skin prickling with sweat, his knuckles white from trying to find purchase on his mattress. His thighs were shiny with slick. Every time he rolled his hips down, sparks ran down his spine and made him tingle.He did that over, and over, and over again. 

The ache all over his body was only soothed by the occasional waft of Jonny’s scent through the door. In a distant part of his brain, there was a fuzzy realization that he should have put the scent blockers on it, but cutting it out now felt unbearable. 

What Patrick couldn’t understand through the haze was why Jonny hadn’t even tried to come in yet. Just months ago, Patrick could barely fight him off with only a little bit of scenting. Now, he was having a full-blown heat and Jonny was relaxed as ever. Patrick felt responsible for his success, and cursed himself. 

He’d been fighting off the urge to fuck himself; if he started too early he’d be too sore afterwards.

He leaned over the side of his bed, hissing at the way his dick dragged against his sheets, and pulled out the box from underneath. Inside, he had his toolset: a few plugs of various sizes, a few bottles of water, a clean towel. He pulled out a decently sized plug - not the biggest, he didn’t want to go too fast too soon - and settled back against his pillows.

As frantic as he felt, he knew what worked for him. He started slow, just rubbing the tip of it against his hole, resisting the urge to push it in. The tease made the payoff more powerful, and the more powerful the payoff, the quicker the heat would break. 

He thought of Jonny. 

Maybe if Jonny came into the room to spread him open with his fingers, or pressed the blunt tip of his dick to Patrick’s ass, he could handle it. Maybe he could have soothed the the unbearable burning in his belly with Jonny’s breath fanning across his cheek. Jonny’s tongue on his throat or in his mouth could calm his nerves.

He thought of those times when Jonny lost control and how he’d crawl into Patrick’s lap, scent-drunk, trying to get close to him. Patrick imagined what would have happened weeks, months ago, if they hadn’t stopped themselves. 

The tip of the plug slid inside of him and he let out a short, tight breath. 

Maybe Jonny would have eaten him out, all those months ago. He was so curious about the taste of Patrick’s slick, thirsty for it. He should have shoved his fingers into Jonny’s mouth, let him lick it up, get addicted to it. 

He was fucking himself with the plug, picturing how Jonny would have pushed him down on the couch and covered him with his broad body. How he would have spread Patrick’s legs, maybe a little too eager and and a little too quickly, and he could have pushed himself in and Patrick could have just - 

It was the quickest he’d ever come during one of his heats. He had barely even touched himself before he spilled all over his hand and stomach, his breath ragged and harsh. The plug sat inside of him, huge and not big enough at the same time. He moved it slowly, waiting for the second wave. He rarely needed to size-up, but considering how much he’d already soaked the sheets, it might be worth it this time.

And Jonny still didn’t come in.

//

Patrick couldn’t stop throwing his scent at the door. Jonny’s scent wafted in and Patrick’s shame had been long lost to the urge to be pressed into the mattress and filled. The third time he came, he blacked out for what he thought was only a few moments. When he blinked back to consciousness, however, he was laying on clean sheets and there was a bowl of pasta on his bedside table. 

And Jonny’s scent was  _ everywhere. _

He ignored the food as he sat up like a rocket, looking around desperately for the source of the scent. Maybe Jonny was in here, maybe he’d - 

Patrick caught his breath. Jonny had dropped off the food and changed out the sheets, all while Patrick slept through it. His heart clenched tightly in his chest; though the room was soaked with Patrick and his heat-scent, Jonny hadn’t stuck around. He’d been able to walk right out and leave him here, like this. 

A deep sorrow crept down the back of Patrick’s neck. He took some deep breaths. The darkness edging at his vision was something he’d read about a million times, but had never experienced himself. 

Bond Rejection. 

Fuck. He clutched at his chest, rubbing a thumb against his sternum and making desperate attempts to remember what he always told his subjects and patients about how to process it. The pain isn’t real, it’s manifested. The shaking is psychosomatic. Breathe.

He bit down on his bottom lip. 

_ “We have more self-control than that.”  _

_ “Our bodies should be stronger than these stupid instincts!” _

_ “I should be able to handle this. I have to.” _

Jonny’s words swirled around in his brain and Patrick’s rapid breathing started to calm. His heart was still hammering in his chest, though, sadness washing over him in waves. He wanted to curl into the sheets and stay there for days. 

Instead of giving in, he pawed at his bedside table, knocking the bowl of pasta over, and retrieved his neutralizing spray. Its effect on Bond Rejection was only theoretical, but at a time like this, Patrick had nothing to lose. He couldn’t let this feeling take him over.

He sprayed the air and breathed in deeply. The change came over him gradually, calming the buzzing underneath his skin to a dull hum. The creeping devastation he’d felt a moment ago began to ebb, leaving him with the standard emptiness of heartbreak.

Patrick swallowed thickly and wiped a hand over his face as he sat up.

He clambered out of bed and grabbed some fresh clothes from his dresser, wrapping a towel around himself as he gently opened his door. 

“Jonny? You still here?”

“Shut the door, Patrick,” Jonny said from the kitchen. Even with a gentle command like that, Patrick’s legs went a little weak. 

“It’s okay,” he said, choking down the waver in his voice. “It’s, uh. It’s over. I’m just going to take a shower, you can leave.”

There was a worrying silence from the other side of the apartment, followed by a cleared throat. “I told you I wanted to stay the whole time.”

“Yeah, and you did. You’re good.” 

Jonny suddenly appeared from around the corner, brows knit with concern. The sight of him was a shock to Patrick’s system; tall and bright-eyed with a small, confused smile on his lips. “Aren’t you proud of me?”

Out of all of the things Patrick expected Jonny to say, that was not on the list. He couldn’t help but smile as he tugged his towel up his hips. “Yeah, Jonny. You did great.” 

It hurt to say, but he couldn’t deny the truth. As soon as the words left his mouth, Jonny brightened. The worry dropped from his face and he puffed his chest out, all the pride of his accomplishment shining out him. Patrick shrunk away from his brilliance.

“I’m really tired, Jonny,” Patrick said softly. Jonny’s face fell, and Patrick’s heart hurt at the sight of it. “I just need to clean up and go back to sleep.”

“Let me make you-”

“No.” Patrick shook his head. He walked out of his bedroom and right up to Jonny, who was wearing that baffled expression again. He squeezed Jonny’s shoulder and gave him what he hoped to be an encouraging smile. “Dude, you did it. You set a goal, and you reached it.” He kept it friendly, casual. Everything he didn’t feel at that moment. 

Jonny nodded, but still looked disconcerted. 

“You don’t need my lessons anymore, man,” Patrick said. “You got full control. You can go out into the world and find someone now.” 

Jonny just continued to nod. He wasn’t looking at Patrick anymore. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

Patrick didn’t have to be psychic to know that Jonny wanted to stay. It was written all over his face. But Patrick’s whole body was hurting from the Bond Rejection, and being near Jonny was making it worse.

“I guess I’ll take off, then.” Jonny’s eyes were sweeping over Patrick from head to toe, concerned. “You sure you’re good?”

Patrick forced a big grin. “Hell yeah. Thanks, Jonny. Handling my heats alone is never fun, you really kicked ass.” 

///

Jonny left. 

Patrick slumped against his shower wall underneath the lukewarm water. His bones were heavy with exhaustion, muscles tight and sore. He’d counseled so many people through Bond Rejection; he thought he understood how devastating it could be. He never expected it to be this bad. 

He scrubbed his body. He was a scientist, damn it, he could think about this clearly. 

Patrick listed what he’d put in his lab notebook. Subject felt paralyzed. Subject had blurry vision and a pit in his stomach. Subject wanted to stay in the shower forever. 

Eventually, the hot water ran out. He wrapped himself up in a big towel and padded back to his room, but stopped in the doorway. He could smell the neutralizing spray, the remnants of his heat, and the idea of walking back in there was too much to bear.

Patrick walked to the guest room and pushed the door open. Jonny’s scent was still strong, even though he’d barely used the room recently. Patrick let the towel drop to the floor as he crawled into the bed and wrapped the sheets around him. He breathed Jonny. He let the scent soak into his naked skin. He imagined him there, curled against him, nosing at his throat. 

The thought lulled him to sleep.  

///

It took a few days for Patrick to feel normal again. 

He showed up to work and ignored Sharpy’s imploring stares. He logged his symptoms in his lab notebook. He considered working on an improved neutralizing spray that would be more effective against Bond Rejection. He ate, he slept, he tried to get better.

When things had just finally slotted into place, he opened his door to a wide-eyed, distressed Jonny, who muscled his way in without a word. Patrick stumbled backward and Jonny dropped his jacket on the floor, turning on him. 

“I rejected your bond,” he blurted. Startled, Patrick stared at him. He didn’t expect Jonny to just come right out and say it like that. He grabbed Patrick’s forearms and squeezed while Patrick winced away from him. 

“Hello to you, too, jackass,” Patrick said without any malice. Jonny ignored him and advanced closer. 

“You opened a bond with me,” he said.

“It was an accident,” Patrick mumbled. “You did such a good job during my heat, I guess I opened the connection.” 

“And I rejected it,” Jonny said. “But fuck, Patrick, I didn’t know you’d done it in the first place.” 

Patrick shuffled guiltily. “I figured,” he said. “Look, I’m not mad at you for rejecting the bond. I’m pissed at myself for letting it happen in the first place.” 

Jonny dropped his grip and shook his head. “Why?”

“Because I was supposed to be - it’s not ethical, Jonny,” Patrick said, frustrated. “You’re so young, and I wasn’t supposed to  _ seduce _ you-”

Jonny started laughing, hearty and earnest. “If you think I’m the kind of person who’s easily manipulated, you’re a fucking idiot.”

Patrick opened his mouth to answer, but Jonny cut him off. 

“And I rejected your bond, dumbass. You did a shitty job of seducing me.” 

Patrick laughed a little, despite himself. “Okay, fine, point taken. How did you figure it out?”

“You,” Jonny said simply. Patrick raised an eyebrow. “When we talked about Bond Rejection, you told me how to recognize it. Post-heat, bags under the eyes, dilated pupils, shaking. I didn’t notice it right away, because you were busy kicking me out, but it just hit me.” 

“I’m sorry,” Patrick sighed. “I should have just used it as a teaching moment. You did the right thing by rejecting it, you really did master your instincts. You didn’t even have to know it was happening to turn it down.” 

Jonny crossed his arms and looked down at Patrick suddenly serious. “Is this why you’re almost 30 and unmated?”

Patrick flinched. “What?”

“You get close to people, then shut ‘em down if it gets real?”

“You shut  _ me _ down, Jonny.” 

“Bullshit. You did your best to fight this off until you were in heat and couldn’t anymore,” Jonny said. “And when you couldn’t, you ditched so you wouldn’t have to deal with it.”

“Jeeze,” Patrick mumbled, scratching his neck. “Ease up, kiddo.” 

Jonny moved right into Patrick’s space to crowd him against the wall behind him. “Don’t call me a kid.” He leaned in and dragged his nose right under Patrick’s ear, huffing out a light breath as he scented him. 

It was deliberate and controlled. Patrick’s eyelids fluttered as he tried to retain some level of dignity, but it was far too overwhelming to have Jonny this close.

“You can stop pretending this is something other than what it is,” Jonny whispered against Patrick’s neck. “We’ve been after each other since day one, and you know it. Out of all the Omegas in that locker room, I could only smell you.” 

“Jonny,” Patrick murmured, but he didn’t have a follow up. 

“And now that you know I can control myself,” he continued, “you can admit that you’re not taking advantage of me.” 

Patrick pressed his lips into a thin line and took a deep, shaky breath. 

“Maybe the real reason you’re unmated,” Jonny said, his mouth ghosting along Patrick’s jaw, “is because you’ve been waiting for me.” 

Patrick groaned. He surged forward and kissed Jonny, grasping the front of his shirt to keep him close. He made it deep right from the beginning. Jonny’s mouth was soft and inviting, but not as forceful as Patrick had imagined he’d be. He was still waiting for Patrick to take the lead. 

Or, Patrick realized, he was letting Patrick have more control than other Alphas had. His chest filled with warmth. 

Jonny’s big hands came up to cup Patrick’s face and his thumbs stroked across his cheekbones in gentle swipes. It was a soft gesture, almost at odds with the heat quickly building between them. So quickly, that Patrick started to panic. 

Jonny eased off, pressing a wet kiss to Patrick’s earlobe. “What?”

“We can’t bond,” Patrick muttered. “It could be years.” He looked up at Jonny and sighed. “Together, unbonded, this age difference? People will think we’re fucked up.”

Jonny laughed. “Jesus, you’re like a broken record. Since when have you cared about rules? Where’s the rebel in you? The one who invented illegal synthetic scents?”

Patrick’s hands fell from Jonny’s shirt to land on his hips. He looked away. 

Jonny turned Patrick’s face back toward him. “If I wanted some submissive Omega I’d go out there and find one,” he said firmly. “But I don’t. I want you, you stubborn asshole.” 

“You always did like a challenge,” Patrick said. Jonny rolled his eyes with a fond smile. 

///

Jonny hit the ice with him a couple of days later. 

It was easy to ignore all the raised eyebrows and knowing glances from the rest of the team. With Jonny on his line, skating hard and finding his tape, he couldn’t be bothered with what anyone else thought. 

“You know you smell like him,” Seabrook said during a faceoff. Patrick just tapped his stick with a smile. 

Late in the game, Patrick caught a pass from Sharpy and buried in the back of the net. Before he knew it, Jonny’s arms were around him, his face tucked right up against Patrick’s. 

“Fuckin’ beaut!” He shouted. Patrick felt the praise throughout his whole body. Jonny pulled away and rubbed Patrick’s helmet with a fond smile. Patrick watched him skate away to line up for the next face off, mind on the game, and swelled with pride. 

They won.

In the locker room, Sharpy pulled off his sweaty shirt and threw it in Patrick’s face.

“Fuck!” Patrick threw the shirt to the ground and glared at him. 

Sharpy glared back. “Next time you’re going through Bond Rejection, you fucking talk to me about it. Got it?”

“I don’t think there’s going to be a next time,” Patrick said. His eyes shot to Jonny across the locker room and he couldn’t help but smile. 

Sharpy rolled his eyes. “A few months ago I’d assume you were being cynical, but I think you’re actually being a giant sap. This kid did a number on you, Kaner.” 

Patrick shrugged and unlaced his skates, not quite meeting Sharpy’s eyes. “You okay with it?”

“Yeah, man. He scored two goals for us tonight.” Sharpy softened and huffed out a breath. “It’s good, Kaner. Try not to fuck it up.”

“Trust me, I already had plenty of opportunities to do that.” 

“Almost let me go,” Jonny chimed in from the other side of the locker room. Patrick’s face heated up. 

Sharpy shook his head. “Dumbass.” 

“I hate you both,” Patrick said. 

///

“Somehow you turned out to be a real Alpha,” Patrick said when they were curled up together after the game. “Remember when you couldn’t even be in a room with me without wanting to suck on my neck?”

“Yeah, well.” Jonny shrugged. “I wanted to fuck the teacher. Had to ace the course.” 

“Eh, I would have done it for a B-minus student,” Patrick said. Jonny elbowed him and when Patrick elbowed him back, it quickly devolved into a wrestling match. It ended with Jonny underneath Patrick, wrists pinned down to the bed as Patrick straddled his hips. 

A beat passed. Patrick waited for Jonny to fight back, throw him off. He waited for his expression to darken and his smile to fade into the familiar, unpleasant frown he’d seen so many times before when he’d forgotten his place. Patrick pressed his wrists down harder, and still Jonny looked back at him, eyes dark and calm. 

This was his Alpha, he realized. Stubborn and determined and eager, who never minded Patrick - an Omega - bossing him around. The man who liked being touched, and never shied away from Patrick's comfort. Who loved being praised. And who never asked anything out of Patrick that other Alphas did, except for him to be his in return.

Their grins softened into smiles, and Patrick blew out a breath. “Jonny, if you ever-”

“I’m not going to change my mind,” Jonny said. “I don’t care if we can’t bond for awhile.”

“You’re the most impatient person I’ve ever met,” Patrick said, rubbing Jonny’s wrists with his thumbs. “How can you be cool about this?”

Jonny shook his head. “I’m going fucking insane. But it’ll be worth it.” 

Patrick’s heart was so full that as a wave of warmth came over him, he had to hide his face in Jonny’s chest. “It’s your fault, anyway,” he said into Jonny’s t-shirt. 

Jonny laughed. “I’ll take it.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Remember to check out alexei's mix here!
> 
> **[Maybe If You Let Me](https://8tracks.com/alexeii/maybe-if-you-let-me) **


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